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‘… then he ate my boy entrancers.’
Louise Rennison
Hilariously funny Louise Rennison’s fabby sixth book of the confessions of crazy but lovable teenager Georgia Nicolson. Guaranteed to have the nation laughing their knickers off!“Come on, Jas, you do really want to know my plan, especially as it concerns you, my little hairy pally.”“I’m not hairy.”“Have it your own way, just don’t go near any circuses.”“Shut up. Go on then, tell me your plan.”“OK, this is it: when I go to Hamburger-a-gogo land… you come with me! Do you see? We will be like Thelma and Louise!”“We’re not called Thelma and Louise.”“I know that, I’m just saying we will be LIKE THEM!”“And we’re not American. And neither of us can drive.”“Oh dear God. Jas, your spaceship has arrived. Please get in.”Laugh your knickers off at Georgia’s tales from her trip to Hamburger-a-gogo land (the US) and her attempts to entice Masimo, the Italian stallion. Can Georgia become the composed sex-kitten she aspires to be…?
Confessions of Georgia Nicolson6
‘…Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers.’
Louise Rennison
In memory and love for the boys, Oscar Kakoschka and Arthur Hewlings. God bless.
Luuurve to the fabbest family a girl could have: Mutti, Vati, Soshie, Johnboy, Eduardo, Hons, Bibbity, Kimbo, Jolly, Arrow, Millie and the three remaining chickens. Oh, and welcome to the new diggy dog, Billy. Big luuurve to the Kiwi-a-gogo and Isle of Wight branches of mayhem. And of course to the Ace mates: Salty Dog ‘of course you haven’t broken it you fool otherwise you couldn’t speak’ Pringle, Mizz Morgan, Elton, Jimjams, Guildford calling, Phil and Ruth in Froggland, Jeddbox, Big Fat Bobbins, Kim ‘you can have that one mate’ and Sandy, Jools and the Mogul, Lozzer or Mrs Bridges as I know you, Ian the computer, Jenks, the Hewlings and the Willans (yes that means you, Candy), Baggy Aggiss and Jo, B and J, Mrs H and Dan, Alan ‘it’s not a perm’ Davies, Jo Good(ish). And of course to Stewpot and Sue (please no more jokes about snot). Ay up to the Northern branch: The Cock, Ann-marie, Katy and Patrick; to the Ace Gang from Parklands: Rosie, Barbara, Christine C, Linda, Ali and everyone. To Chris the Organ. Love to the Captain and thank you for letting me use your togglestick thing. To the St Nicks crew for everything, and in particular to Dezza the vicar for joy and love and the APPALLING jokes about farting. (And also to young Phil and family…just love, nothing to do with farting.) Also a big kiss to the new cruise mates: Bungalow Steve, Dancing Steve, Simon the Rock God and Adéle, Ironing Tony and Marg. Big luuurve to Mirella, Dave and the very gorgey Mattea. Thank you to Karen Cunningham for the lovely frocks and to that Eve the Minx. Finally thank you to everyone at my work family at HarperCollins: the divine Gillie, fabby Sally Martin and groovy Sally Gritten; to Caroline and all in the publicity and design departments – what a beyond marvy job you have all done. Thank you to Emma at Midas. Bye bye Dom. And as always best love to the Empress. The end. P.S. Hahahaha you thought I had finally shut up, didn’t you? But finally, thank you to all the fabby readers of my books and all of you who have sent me such lovely letters (and now and again inscribed thongs…). I luuuurve you all. I do. I think this is everything…hopefully! Luuurve Lou xxxxxxx.
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u54678140-2dc5-5792-9a68-fa69785ff4ff)
Title Page (#udebead04-4683-572a-8fbc-d0d8776ce6c1)
A Note from Georgia (#u151e5e02-b9b9-5891-8be2-c5065a542d4a)
Jas, your spaceship has arrived. Please get in. (#u3d917055-9d1e-5aa4-9146-0cbc8faefdf7)
Howdy, Hamburger-a-gogo land! Brace yourselves for a knicker invasion!!! (#litres_trial_promo)
Let the nuddy-pants bison disco inferno dance commence! (#litres_trial_promo)
Bum bum bum bum oley bum bum, and good afternoon officer (#litres_trial_promo)
“What PANTS through yonder window breaks?” (#litres_trial_promo)
The Big Furry Paw of Fate (#litres_trial_promo)
Georgia’s Glossary (#litres_trial_promo)
Preview (#litres_trial_promo)
Other Books By (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
A Note from Georgia (#ulink_b66fe913-66d7-5766-9ecb-36c9f5da17b0)
Dear Chumettes and Chums,
I hope you are all righty as two all righty things. I am, though ONCE AGAIN I am full of exhaustiosity. I have been as busy as a bee (two bees) finishing my latest oeuvre. Oh yes, AND I have been to Hamburger-a-gogo land to see for myself the nation that cannot be bothered to put the “i” in the second half of words…like aluminium, for instance, which those lazy cats spell aluminum. Where would we be if none of us could be bothered to finish off our words properly? I’ll tell you where we would be, we would be up shi cree without a padd…that’s where.
As you will see, I have reached new heights of sophisticosity in this latest of my oevvres…boys, lipstick, snogging, snogging, red-bottomosity, jokes about sausages and pants – the list is endless.
I do this only because I love you.
Georgia
p.s. You don’t know what oevvre means, do you?
p.p.s. You think it is french for eggs, don’t you? Like oeuf.
p.p.p.s. You think I have been saying that I have just finished writing my new egg.
p.p.p.p.s. Look it up in the glossary, you lazy minxes, I am far too tired to explain. I have to go and have a lie down on my snogging emporium (bean bag)…zzzzzzzzzzzz.
Jas, your spaceship has arrived. Please get in. (#ulink_61fc9e21-d924-5a48-b3e6-32c3a50457e1)
Saturday May 7
Sun shining like a big yellow shining…er…warmey planet on fire thing.
Yesssssssss!
10:05 a.m.
I am quite literally not wandering lonely as a clud, in fact I am treading lightly in the Universe of the Very Nearly Quite Happy.
10:10 a.m.
Something full of miraculosity has happened. My vati, world renowned fool and paid-up member of the Big Twit club, has for once in his entire life accidentally done something good. We are going to Hamburger-a-gogo land! Honestly.
And guess who is there already? Besides a lot of people in huge psychedelic shorts and that bloke who is half-chicken half-colonel. I’ll tell you who is there, the Luuurve God is there! Masimo, the Italian Stallion, has gone to visit his olds, leaving me – his new, lurker-free-nearly almost girlfriend – back here in Billy Shakespeare land. So he thinks! Imagine how thrilled he will be when I pop up and say “Howdy!”, or whatever it is they say over there.
Let the overseas Snog Fest begin!
10:15 a.m.
The only fly in the ointmosity of life is that Vati is making us go to some crap clown-car convention.
10:20 a.m.
And Uncle Eddie, the baldest man on the planet, is coming with us.
10:25 a.m.
Still, with a bit of luck they will both be arrested for indecent exposure when they don their leather motoring trousers.
10:30 a.m.
Filled with the joie de vivre that is so much a part of my attractive but modest personality, I phoned my bestest pally.
“Jas, it is mich, your sehr guttest pally. I am calling you mit wunderbar news!”
“Oh God. Look, it’s only a week till Tom leaves and we were just sorting out my—”
“Jas, I cannot waste time discussing your knicker collection; that is between you and Tom…quite literally…hahahahaha. Do you get it? Do you get it? Knickers…between you and Hunky…do you…?”
But as I should have known from long and tiring experience, it is useless to waste my wit on Jazzy. So I cut to my nub and gist.
“I am going to Hamburger-a-gogo land to meet Masimo the Luuurve God of the universe and beyond. And back.”
“No you’re not.”
“I am.”
“How?”
I explained to Jas about the trip and the “Howdy!” business and everything, but as usual she displayed cold waterosity.
“Where is Masimo going to be in Hamburger-a-gogo land?”
“Ahaha!!!”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Well, not yet, but—”
“He could be anywhere.”
“I know, but how big can America be?”
“It’s huge.”
I laughed. Nothing was going to spoil my peachy mood, let alone swotty nit-picking from Mrs Big Pantaloonies.
I said, “Is it as huge as your gym knickers?”
There was silence.
“Jas, come on, be happy for me.”
“It’s all very well for you, you can just fancy anyone, but it’s different with Tom and me – he’s off to Kiwi-a-gogo and I will be left here all on my owney.”
Oh good grief.
Hunky is only going to the Land of the Big White Clots for a couple of weeks, but I am still going to have to listen to her moaning and rambling on about the twig-collecting years. However, before she could start raving on about molluscs and cuckoo spit I had a flash of inspirationosity.
“Jas, listen, I have a plan of such geniosity that I have even surprised myself, and might give myself some sort of award.”
She didn’t even say “What is it?” There was just silence.
I said, “Aren’t you even going to ask me what it is, Jas?”
“It’s bound to be stupid.”
“Oh, cheers, thanks a lot. Well I won’t bother you with it then. Even though it involves you and your happiness and is très bon and also vair vair gut. Au revoir. Bonne chance.”
And I put the phone down. Even Jas cannot spoil my mood. Lalalalalalala.
11:00 a.m.
Better start planning my wardrobe for the Luuurve Trail. What do the Hamburgese wear? Cowboy hats, I suppose.
11:10 a.m.
From what I hear, the Hamburgese are a bit strict hygienewise. They’re always in the shower and so on. It is to be hoped the customs man doesn’t glance inside Libby’s bag and find her night-time blankie, otherwise we will all be buggered.
Oh, so many things to worry about. I think I will have a little zizz to relax myself and then plan my cosmetic routine.
11:11 a.m.
Fat chance.
“Gingey! Gingey, it’s meeeeeeee!!! I have just been to the lavatreeeeee!”
My darling sister has kicked open my bedroom door. Hurrah.
11:13 a.m.
Oh good, and she has her “fwends” with her – scuba-diving Barbie, Charlie Horse, a parsnip and Cross-eyed Gordy. Gordy is under house arrest because he has not had the immunisation injections he needs before he is set loose into the wild jungle world of our street. I’d like to see the germ hard enough to take him on.
As they all snuggled comfortably into my bed, the phone rang downstairs and Dad answered it. Vati yelled up, “Georgia, quickly, one of your mates wants to talk rubbish with you for an hour or two on her father’s phone.”
He has not got the flare of charm, my vati; but on the other hand, what he has got are my tickets to paradise. I must remember that, however ludicrous he is, he has bought me a passage to the Luuurve Machine.
Masimo-a-gogo!!!
I shouted down, “Thank you, Papa, I’ll be down immediately, and perhaps later I will entertain you with my piano playing.”
We haven’t got a piano, but it’s the thought that counts.
11:15 a.m.
It was Jazzy Spazzy…tee-hee. I knew she would crumble and want to know my plan.
I said, “So, now do you want to know what my plan is?”
“If you like.”
“No Jas, you are still not showing enthusiosity. Try harder.”
